Eames' Charms And How to Properly Resist them
by The-Great-Catsby
Summary: Arthur figured that he had already come this far- whats the harm in not resisting the older mans charms for a little while longer?  E/A fluff.


Hey there, I've been writing this and editing it over the course of four or five days and I hope it shows. So please enjoy, And be sure to R&R once your done.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but I think we should all know that by now.

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Saying Arthur didn't like Eames was sort of like saying the Atlantic wasn't huge, or the sky over Maryland is _just_ bleary. They were understatements to say the least.

Night hated day, dark hated light, Arthur_ hated_ Eames. That's how things were supposed to work, and that's how they always had. Ever since they met over six years ago, when the Brit had appointed himself the younger man's personal annoyance. That was when Arthur decided he didn't want, or need, to know the forger any better.

If the Point-man had to find one thing that he hated the most about the older man- was that Arthur couldn't ever get away. Eames followed him from job to job, one obscure war-torn country, to the next like a puppy nipping at the heels of his master. Eames was in his dreams, The medically sedated sort, but they were dreams nevertheless. When he was younger he always figured dreams were supposed to be warm and safe, private- even the bad ones. He had long since stopped dreaming on his own. And he could only get as close to real dreams as Yusef's drugs and the PASIV device would allow him.

"Love?" That horribly smarmy voice caught the darker haired mans attention. Green eyes gently encased in wrinkles, appropriate for a man in his mid thirties, smirked at him.

He hated that about the Forger even more- His face. Or, how open it always seemed. Arthur knew he wasn't always considered Mr. Emotional, the Point-man had learned a long time ago that you were only going to get burned if you wear your heart on your sleeve. But with Eames, con man extraordinaire, it seemed as if he never had a problem with showing his emotions, even the fake ones. A lot of people had fallen victim to the man's charm, beautiful ladies with diamonds on their thin necks, business men who found his up-front confidence attractive, and then all the hodgepodge people in-between.

You needed to be strong in this job. You needed to be guarded, because anything you want to hide in a shared dream is fair-game for anyone.

Arthur wondered if Eames had secrets, and then he wondered if he knew any of them.

"What?" Arthur asked.

"I asked if you were coming in with me, darling. Your all dressed up with nowhere to go." The Forger responded, large arm gesturing to the grandiose bar across the street with its bright yellow lights illuminating the dusky street around it.

They were in Arthur's home town now- The beautifully destroyed, dangerous, and bustling Charm city. Arthur had never told Dom that he was from Baltimore, so he figured that Eames didn't know either. But considering the older man's inclination into snooping into the Point-man's life, he couldn't be sure.

"It's going to be easier for you to follow and observe the mark if I'm not with you." He answered. For the most part it was the truth. It would be easier. But Arthur used to run in these circles, his family was privileged, before he had buckled down. A long time ago he was _that _sort of guy. He saw _those_ guys walking into the elegant bar across the street, ladies on their arms, silver spoon in their mouths. It was easy to live the high life when you had your dead dad's money in your pocket. Arthur _had_ that. He doesn't miss it.

Eames looked put off. "I was so hoping we could finally spend some _time alone_ together. Do you not want to spend time with me, darling?"

The way he talked, each note going up and down like a broken European melody. It was just now starting to grate at Arthur's nerves. A shudder trilled its way up the point man's spine.

" Yes Mr. Eames- I _really _do have better things to do then to drive you around. If I wanted to be a babysitter I would've stayed with-"

The older man let out a short bark of laughter that cut him off abruptly mid sentence, and then went back to being his usual annoying self. "Of course Arthur, you stay here then."

Arthur nodded curtly, not wanting to make eye contact with the older man. "I was planning on it."

Eames gave a quick goodbye and left- taking long strides to the club with a gait that was uniquely his. Arthur leaned his head back against the seat, his head heavy with pointless thoughts.

He had been here before -across from the inner harbor- and at this very bar. It was called _Cordelia's- _And it was the local solution to the rich man's hunger and his thirst for pretty women. The doors were a heavy red leather, and the walls were a dark wood. Cliche and classy.

Eames had been researching a young man, a friend of their mark for possible forging in the shared dream-state. Cobb had promised himself, Mal's father and his kids that the Fischer case would be the last.

Once he landed in LAX he would no longer be Dom Cobb, expert extractor- but Dom Cobb, father. But the excitement of being in a dream pulled him back like a yo-yo. Arthur knew this wasn't what the Extractor needed, but who was he to deny an aging mans wishes- he had nothing better to be doing anyway.

_'One last job' _He had told the Point-man over the phone one night. _'One last job and you can go back to doing whatever it was you were doing before all this, Arthur.' _

Something shiny on the seat next to Arthur caught the attention of his dark brown eyes. It was a phone, Eames' phone, tiny black buttons and all. Arthur's eyes scanned across the road but it had been a few minutes and he was probably inside already chatting up his target.

The Point-man wouldn't have really cared if it had been any other day. But if something went wrong Eames would have no way of knowing. Those were dangerous men he was going to be seated with. Some of whom knew of shared dreaming, and they _would _shoot Eames. And there was no waking up when you were shot in the clubs of Baltimore.

It would hurt like hell and Eames would die.

The plan called for Eames getting a call from Ariadne, who was stationed in a windowless blue van around the block, when his target's bodyguards would be arriving (With big _big _guns) to escort him back to his ritzy hotel somewhere inner city. Which would've usually been okay, but these bodyguards were familiar with Eames, and dreaming, and they did _not _like him.

That way Eames could ditch the scene with the knowledge that he came for and never be seen by the hired guns. Like smoke on the water, he would be gone and no one would be the wiser.

All of these things had made planning difficult and extremely inconvenient for the frazzled Point-man, but he managed. Months of research on his end in an abandoned factory on the filthy outskirts of the city.

Making up his mind, he pulled on his gray coat, grabbed the tiny silver phone off the leather seats and stepped out of his car.

The air was cold here in January, and the frigid breeze coming off the water from the harbor wasn't making it any better. He pulled the wool coat closer around his small frame.

His breath came out in short puffs of heat, twirling indistinguishable designs in the air like smoke. When he was younger, during the colder months of the year he would sit on the balcony to the families high-rise and just _breathe _and watch. That's probably what made him such a calm adult. Years and years of makeshift meditation.

He crossed the street with ease, a red light a block further up the road had stopped the traffic allowing him to cross the street with a few other pedestrians- an elderly homeless woman with graying hair, and a group of private school students laughing to themselves.

The door to _Cordelia's _was guarded by a large bouncer with short hair and dark skin freckled with scars. This wasn't like most other clubs, there was no line, there never was.

You would know if you could get in or not.

Arthur strode up to the man, trying his hardest to put on his confident face. His hands were in the deep pockets of his black slacks. His fingers brushed over a business card that he carried with him always.

"You cant go in there. " The man said. His voice was booming and louder then Arthur had expected.

"I'm sorry, my friend is in there. Its' very important." He tried reasoning with him, not expecting much. Arthur just hoped he wouldn't try and punch him.

"And I said, you _can't_ go in there." He growled out. "Move along."

Arthur sighed, not wanting to resort to this- it draws too much attention to himself, and attention is never good. He fingered the flimsy paper in his pocket and pulled out the rectangle and flashed it to the bouncer. "I would hate to have leave and go somewhere else."

The large mans eye's flashed in recognition and embarrassment. "My apologizes, sir. Please-" He grabbed open the gold handle of the big leather door and pulled it open for him, his demeanor instantly changing.

Arthur just nodded in recognition and strode through the tall door.

Arthur's brother, Robert Moore, inherited the family business while Arthur was deemed too out of control to run a major corporation. (He imagined Eames' face at that- too out of control!) He looked a lot like his brother, which helped him at times like these. His older brother didn't know he carried around his personal card, and he liked to keep it that way.

The bar wasn't crowded, just couples and groups smartly dressed sitting around tables and on couches. His eyes scanned through them, none of them Eames.

He walked through the open room to the back, where he figured Eames would be- sort of like this club's equivalent of VIP. The walls were a deep red and the floor were the most expensive of dark black woods.

There were no bouncers waiting at the entrance to the next room- there wasn't even a door. It had a much more intimate and closer feel then the entrance.

That's when he spotted him, Eames sitting on a couch and across from him the backs of two men sitting dangerously close. Eames' green eyes flashed with confusion, some undefinable other emotion that Arthur couldn't quite place, and then he saw in those eyes a plan being formed.

"Alex, love! What are you doing here?" Eames yelled across the room, motioning at Arthur to come over.

The Point-man recognized when someone was improvising, and that's exactly what he figured was going on now. Eames stood and maneuvered around the couch that stood between them.

What happened next unfolded in the briefest of seconds that if Arthur had blinked, he may of well missed it. Eames stood only a few inches from him and his considerably bigger arms snaked around his slimmer waist to rest on his lower back. From the corner of his eye Arthur could see the two other men trying to slyly watch the proceedings before them.

Arthur hated that feeling- being watched. The attention being paid to the two felt pliable and Arthur just wanted to hide away from the leering eyes he could feel over his skin.

Eames' head ducked to block the vision to their mouths, that way the two well-dressed men on the couch couldn't read their lips and hopefully not hear them if they whispered quietly enough. Eames' breath was hot and moist on the shell of Arthur's ear and his stubble was close enough to scratch along his cheek.

"What are you doing?" His voice was a shrill whisper, just loud enough that only the sandy haired Forger could hear him. Arthur's mind had just became _extremely _aware of Eames' fingers toying with his belt loops.

"My, you always have the best timing, love." Eames cooed, still whispering into his ear. "The mark's mate is gay, He's here on a date."

"So?" Arthur hissed, unhappy about how Eames was pulling him closer until their bodies were flush against each others.

"So _love_, imagine what else you missed- aren't you background check guy?" Eames snorted, an unattractive sound when it's right next to your ear, before continuing all in hushed tones.

"I'm get _'your hand off my ass guy'- _What the hell are you planning on doing?" He growled out. Eames' hands left their annoying task of prying at his pants and rested at a slightly more appropriate region on his hips. Although Arthur wished he would stand away from him across the room, his heart was thumping much too fast.

"See- I told him I had a pretty little date waiting for me back home, and now that your here- well it's just grand. Birds of a feather, Y'know- flock together?"

"What the hell do you expect me to-" His hoarse whisper was cut short. Eames had that habit, cutting Arthur off in which ever way he could.

"Haven't you always wanted the chance to see what dating me is like? Tell me you've never even thought about it." That voice. Raspy and deep, all British and sounding so gentlemanly even when saying the most far-off things.

Arthur's mouth was dry and felt like pure wild cotton, he gulped hoping all his nervousness would slip down his throat. His face and ears felt hot and his heart was beating so fast and hard that it was bruising against his ribs and he could hear it's screams in his ears.

"No, Mr. Eames. I haven't. " Arthur hoped he bought that.

Better yet, Arthur hoped he had _meant _that.

"That's a shame, love. I've wondered what dating you would be like, horribly organized and well-planned, if I know you at all."

Arthur blanched. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of order in your life..." He mumbled to himself, or to Eames. He wasn't quite sure.

Eames let one hand drop from Arthur's slim hips and ran his hand against Arthur's soft cheeks. The pads of his fingers traced lines over Arthur's well-angled bones, and he ran his fingers back through Arthur's well styled hair. "There it is." Eames murmured to himself.

"Wha-?"

"Your blush, makes you seem- " Eames thought for a moment, his eyebrows crinkling. "- more human? Like your not just Cobb's Point-man."

He bristled slightly. "I'm not _just_ Cobb's Point-man, Mr. Eames." Arthur tried to argue.

"No, of course not." Eames conceded. At some point during all this a small piece of hair had dislodged itself from all others and hung over his ear, probably from Eames' hands trailing their way through it. Eames smirked, his usual crooked grin, and pushed back the small chunk of dark chestnut hair behind his ear. "Wouldn't want you looking a mess and all."

Arthur swore he saw a red tinge flush over the older man's face, but it was hard to tell.

Eames stepped away from Arthur. "Come on." He said, grabbing the Point-mans slightly smaller hand it his bigger and more calloused own.

The Forger had maneuvered around a few tables and brought Arthur around to the couch he was sitting on when he entered. They were big and red and looked unbelievably comfy.

"Gentlemen, this is Alex Wright- my boyfriend." Eames said. It felt wierd, hearing that word come from Eames' mouth in reference to him. He always thought that Eames didn't date just left a long string of broken hearts and fuck buddies in his wake. And Arthur was positive that he never thought he would be said boyfriend, even in a purely fake instance like this. Eames looked at him. "Alex, darling, this is Jack Weber-" He extended his hand towards the slightly bigger blond man that Arthur recognized from his files as the man Eames was intending to forge. "- and Max Patterson." Max was much smaller and had almost jet black hair with a smooth olive skin-tone.

Arthur, or now Alex as Eames had dubbed him, smiled and shook both of their hands before sitting down on the opposite couch. Eames followed suit, his thigh much to close to Arthur's own and his knee perpetually brushed up against his.

"So Alex," Jack began. "William was just telling us about you, Y'know you've got the poor guy hooked." Jack grinned.

_'Eames you stupid fuck! Your real name, really? Are you that dense?_' Arthur mentally yelled to himself, hoping that he could telepathically chastise the Brit for being so unbelievably stupid.

"Oh?" Arthur couldn't help the flush he felt crawling over his skin. "All good things I hope, right _Willy?" _He bit out the Forger's name.

Before he could answer, it was Max who cut in. "Yeah, you wouldn't believe how this guy talks about you! He was telling us how the two of you met, is it true?"

Arthur froze. He had absolutely no idea what sort of story Eames had fed these too. "Well I'm sure his version was embellished, to say the least. Did he mention anything about him being a knight in armor and me living in a tower?" Arthur bluffed, an easy smile on his face.

The two men laughed, a raucous noise the filled the smaller room easily. "Actually, " Eames began, shifting a bit so he could face Arthur. "I was telling them how we worked together in the city and every day I would try and get your attention- "

There it went again. Arthur's heart was catapulting around in his chest. Everything Eames was saying felt too real, too pure.

Arthur, by some sick fascination with where Eames would take the fictional story, played along. "And each day I would turn you down?" He answered for the other man.

Eames got this sad sort of smile on his face before continuing. "But even you couldn't resist my charms for long, could you ducky?"

"Guess not." Arthur agreed a bit breathless. Eames was inching closer, and his breath was muggy and warm and his eyes were hooded with some sort of emotion that Arthur couldn't place.

The two on the couch opposite of them weren't paying too much attention to them anymore, having started their own conversation once they released that an intimate moment was unfolding between the two.

Arthur knew where this was going, and he wasn't sure he was going to stop Eames.

Eames was a few inches from his face, and Arthur felt himself drifting closer with every millisecond. In an instant both pairs of lips met tentatively for brief moment before pulling away after only a few seconds. It was chaste and it was innocent, something completely unexpected from Eames.

They stared at each other for a few moments, neither of them not really knowing what to say. They didn't _need _to kiss, hell, Jack and Max hadn't been paying attention to them for minutes now.

Then why did they?

Arthur's attention was once again captured by Eames' phone, this time vibrating restlessly in his pocket. Arthur stood from the couch and moved a few feet away so no one else could hear. Eames decided it was wise to follow suit.

"Hello?" Arthur answered as he flipped the phone open.

"Arthur?" It was Ariadne, her voice young and girlish as always. "Why are you answering the phone, is Eames alright?"

"Yes, hello." He answered. Eames was inching closer to hear what was being said on the other end. He probably just now noticed he didn't have his phone on him.

"Alright, well it's time for you two to get out of there. You have...ten, twelve minutes?"

"Alright, thank you. "He turned to Eames, whispering. "It's time to go."

They turned to Max and Jack, Eames thanked them for the Whiskey Scotch they had bought Eames, and Arthur just smiled and bid the couple farewell.

He felt bad, for a moment, that they were using people who seemed so innocent.

The two left _Cordelia's _the same way they had entered and stepped onto the street. Arthur checked his watch, a birthday gift from Cobb years ago. It was a few minutes past nine.

"It's snowing." Eames noticed. The sidewalk was dusted save for the footprints of people who had walked though it earlier and the road was almost completely clear. Arthur made a small noise of committal in his throat but otherwise stayed silent. He wasnt sure if he could trust his voice not to crack or to say something stupid.

Before he could control himself, it was coming up- the word vomit. "How much of that was true?"

Eames shrugged. "Like ninety percent of it?"

Arthur breathed in and out a few more times- that wasn't the answer he had expected. He had thought that Eames would call him darling and chastise him for getting too personal about a role. This was something new and dangerous and Arthur was absolutely frightened.

"Oh."

Eames groaned and took Arthur's hand in his before walking off in the opposite direction of the car. "Come on', love. I think it's about time I show you what going on a date with me is _really _like."

Arthur figured that he had already come this far- whats the harm in _not _resisting the older mans charms for a little while longer?

XXX

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Thanks for reading. Please review- It will mean a lot.

This story was originally going to be a lot different and it took a few turns along the way. First off, it was going to be called VIP, based on the song by Ke$ha.

But it turned out a bit differently then that.

Also. I seriously think Eames' name is William. I thought I heard Cobb call him that at the final level but when I re-saw the movie I was distracted and didn't pay enough attention. Phooey

Love always,

Midnight Justice


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